


The Assistant

by Smutstress



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Porn with a vague stab at plot, Sex booze and good decisions, i dont know where this came from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 13:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11381529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smutstress/pseuds/Smutstress





	The Assistant

Watching Jensen and Misha’s back and forth on the stage was as captivating as ever and Judith could tell from the rapt faces that the audience was eating it up as they always did.  
It was a strange duality, watching Jensen in full performance mode, versus the quiet, intelligent man she’d grown to know over their eleven years acquaintance. She knew better than most how many roles he assumed to fulfil his various duties - a husband and father, Dean Winchester on the smash hit show Supernatural, the Jensen who was entirely at ease on the stage, and the man she met most mornings at 7am to go over the plans for the day.  
But he handled them all with ease and even seemed to enjoy them all, happily pushing her to schedule more conventions, more interviews. And when Jensen wanted something, it was her job to move heaven and earth to make it happen - she was exceptionally good at it.  
Even now, her phone vibrated almost nonstop in her hand with demands for a few precious moments of Jensen’s time as the convention drew to a close, photo op’s and yet another round of meet and greet with the adoring fans, but she ignored it for now, enjoying the performance on stage too much. Besides, once this was over she knew they were heading straight out the back and to the waiting car - Jensen had decided this was his last appearance at this convention.  
The stream of vibrations changed to a rapid pulse, letting her know one of the Demons - their joking name for the people intimately connected to the show - needed her attention.  
Big J on his way, the message read, from Jared’s assistant Todd.  
So they were ending this con a little early, Judith mused, wondering if Jensen had planned this. She wouldn’t put it past him. He’d been surreptitiously checking his watch for the past 40 minutes as they fielded questions from the fans.  
Judith slid her phone into her chicly tailored white jacket as she slipped her feet back into the devilishly high louboutins and stood, preparing to leave. She smoothed her pale green silk shirt down into the band of her white pencil skirt and slung her handbag over one arm so she could carry the drinks tray with her iced tea and Jensen’s whiskey, fluffing her expertly mussed red locks with a free hand.  
Sure enough, Jared went bowling past her with all the enthusiasm of an overeager puppy and the crowd erupted with screams as he leapt onto the stage. She caught Jensen’s eye when he glanced at her and gave him a quick nod. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she tapped out a quick message in the con group chat, letting them know that was it for Jensen and wishing them luck with the closing ceremony madness.  
Truthfully she was glad they were avoiding that this time - the last con in Chicago they’d ended up partying until well after 4am, and she just didn’t have the energy this time. They’d been on the move for three straight weeks now and she wanted nothing more than room service, a bottle of wine and a scaldingly hot bath with as many scents and bubbles as she could lay her hands on.  
Jensen had finished the unobtrusive handover to Jared by now and was sauntering offstage to shrieks and screams from the audience. Behind him, Misha had his mic up to distract the audience.  
She handed him the whiskey as he reached her and fell into step beside him, their pace rapid but not hurried. His eyes were bright with the rush of performing and his subtle cologne was mingled with the not-entirely-unpleasant aroma of sweat after the long day.  
“Great stuff,” she assured him out of long habit. “The cars out back and the flight is still pushed until 2 tomorrow, so we’re stuck in the hotel until then.”  
“It’s fine, Jude. I could use the rest,” Jensen told her with a tired smile, knocking back the whiskey in one gulp and dumping the cup in a trash can.  
“You and me both,” she sighed, shouldering through the double doors. The cold air was especially frigid after the warmth of the convention hall and she shivered, pulling her jacket closed.  
With typical courtesy, Jensen opened the rear door of the car for her and gave her a solicitous hand in, before taking his accustomed place in the passenger seat.  
“Hey man,” he greeted Frank, their usual driver when they were in Washington, with easily familiarity.   
Jude sank back into the sedans comfortable cushions, tuning out the conversation in the front seat. Jensen was in full swing as jovial humble actor and she left him to it, feeling the weight of all the late nights and early mornings in every aching muscle. It would be a long drive back to the hotel way out on the outskirts of the city but it was worth the effort. Most of the hotels in the city were swarming with convention goers and they both needed the break, and the best way to guarantee some downtime was to stay as far away from the city as possible.  
The small hotel had been a terrific find and they booked it out every time they were in the area, cast and their entourages turning the normally slow hotel into a buzzing hub of activity. It had become a little tradition, and the owners were more than happy to see them every year, and to keep the rooms vacant as con season swung around.   
Judith pulled out her phone to check the forecast once again, worried that the weather would suddenly turn. Any medium-to-heavy snowfall and the road to the hotel would be unpassable, and she was dying to get home for a few weeks of relaxation before they began shooting season 6 and Jensen’s schedule was packed.  
It didn’t look good but every source she checked had the storm hitting at around 6pm the following day, plenty of time to make their flight connection back to Austin.  
There were a couple of messages from Bob Singer looking for an update on the final draft of Jensen’s script and she replied, letting him know they were good to go.  
Up front, Jensen threw back his head and laughed at something Frank had said, glancing back at her.  
She gave him a distracted smile and went back to scrolling through messages to see if she’d missed anything important during the Q&A panel.  
“Jude, do you ever stop?” Jensen asked from the front seat, shaking his head.  
“Hardly ever,” she assured him brightly, satisfied that were was nothing requiring her immediate attention. She had a couple of long emails to reply to, but she intended to get those done on the plane when Jensen’s attention was guaranteed by enforced idleness. Otherwise he’d find any excuse possible to get out of it, but his input was needed.  
“Give it a rest, Ju, relax,” Jensen called out and went right back to his conversation with the driver.  
She smiled to herself and turned her head to stare out of the window idly, reflecting.   
In truth, she loved her job, for all its hardships and the sacrifices it required from her family, the long months away from home while Jensen filmed, or zipping around the country ahead of him to make sure the venues were suitable, endless emails back and forth hammering out terms of interviews, requests for his presence, handling the myriad details of Jensen’s day as only someone intimately familiar with them could.  
He relied on her heavily for everything from dry cleaning to script approvals, finding the perfect suits for award shows and movie premiers, to last minute gifts for his wife and child, and valued her opinion on opportunities that he was interested in.  
She wouldn’t trade it for anything.

 

She jerked awake as a change in the car's engine signalled they were at the hotel, surreptitiously wiping a pool of spit from the corner of her mouth. She must be exhausted to have fallen asleep in the car. She hoped no one had noticed, but if they had, neither of the men showed any sign.  
Jensen gave Frank a pat on the shoulder and a hefty tip before he swung out of the car, opening her door while she was still scrambling around to get her shoes back on and find her phone.  
“Thanks,” she muttered, embarrassed to be caught out, when he took her bag from her and helped her out of the car. She stretched, arms above her head, twisting from side to side to ease the stiffness in her muscles before she reached to retrieve her bag.  
“Nah, I got it,” Jensen assured her, swinging the oversized red leather bag over his shoulder as if he carried ladies purses around all the time. He grinned at her before setting off with a cocky saunter.   
She followed at a slower pace, letting the crisp night air clear some of the fuzz from her head. It was brilliantly clear as only a winter’s night at this altitude could be, stars out in plentitude with eery clarity as the ice in the air reflected the light and made them twinkle merrily.  
Jensen was waiting by the brass elevator when she caught up, humming a snippet of some song under his breath. The lobby was deserted, even the owner missing from his usual perch at the front desk. Their troupe wouldn’t be back for a few more hours.  
“Oh hey, did you get back to Bobby on the script?” He asked suddenly with a glance at her.  
“Sure, told him you’re good to go. He said until you start goofing around with Jared, and then it’s all out the window,” she replied, with a passable impression at Bob’s droll tones.  
He smirked, eyes crinkling in humour.   
The elevator doors chimed as they slid open and they piled in, Jensen hitting the button for their floor. He pulled his phone out and checked his messages as she slumped into the mirrored wall, tilting her head to run her fingers through her hair.   
They rode the elevator up in companionable silence and she had opened her mouth to wish him goodnight, but he got there first.  
“Wanna come in for a drink?”   
“Uh, sure.” She was surprised.   
Normally, if he’d cut something short it was because he wanted to be alone, have some time to himself to decompress.  
He led the way and she trudged after him, tired legs dragging her heels a little in the plush carpet.   
His suite was a few doors down from her own and almost identical. She headed straight for the overstuffed white sofa under the panoramic window and sank down gratefully, kicking off her heels to stretch her legs out on the soft material.  
He dumped her bag on the coffee table in front of her and bent to inspect the bar, shrugging and coming back with two handfuls of tiny liquor bottles, depositing them next to her bag. He made a second trip for glasses and snacks before dropping to the armchair opposite her, cocking one leg up to rest it across his knee, methodically removing tiny screw caps and pouring until there were two respectable tumblers of bourbon.  
“Cheers,” he slid her glass towards her, tilting his own in an ironic salute, and took a sip, closing his eyes in appreciation.   
Her own hefty slug coursed down her throat, burning as it went. It settled in her stomach and radiated warmth out to her limbs. She sighed happily, feeling tension slide away.  
“Salute,” she drawled with a hint of her native Texan accent and took another restorative sip. The silence stretched comfortably between them out of long habit. They no longer needed to fill it with idle chatter or work related matters. One learned to enjoy the moments of peace when they came.  
Judith sank deeper into the squashy cushions, dragging one around to prop her head up and pointing her toes out to feel the delicious burn as taut muscles pulled against the motion.  
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she dragged it out without looking at it to mute it with a decisive swipe, tossing it with a clatter onto the table.  
“Take that,” she muttered vindictively, draining her glass.  
“More?” Jensen bent over the table to refill it without waiting for her response. His own drink was barely touched.  
“Too much more and I’ll be sleeping on your sofa.”  
He gave her one of the patented Jensen slow smiles, one corner of his mouth curling up. As always, she felt the irresistible draw of that smile and as always, she ignored it.  
It wasn’t his fault that he was so damned attractive, and it certainly wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t control her reaction to it, but their relationship was strictly work. She’d made sure of that right at the very beginning, establishing herself as professional, friendly and approachable, but absolutely out of bounds when it came to his casual flirting.  
And he flirted with everyone, sometimes deliberately, sometimes without realising it. That slow, southern accent would come out in spades and his mouth would quirk with irresistible charm, and she’d seen many a poor girl come undone at that wicked combination.  
It was a point of personal pride that she’d never succumbed to his deadly appeal, and it was almost a habit now to pointedly ignore it.  
So she snagged a small tub of roasted cashew nuts off the table, balancing her drink as she popped the lid and tipped some out onto it.  
“Hey,” he protested indignantly. “Those are the only ones.”  
“You snooze you lose, Ackles,” she carolled in a singsong voice, munching on the spoils.  
“Playground logic, Ju? Really?” Jensen laughed and shook his head.  
“Besides, I think this is the first thing I’ve eaten since, um...Yeah, I had a banana this morning.”  
“Really? Damn, you keep ‘em.” He whistled and waved one hand in a magnanimous gesture.   
Judith glanced out of the window and shot upright, sending cashews and whisky flying.   
“Oh! Oh shit. No!” she exclaimed in horror. The previously clear winter sky was now obscured by thick clouds of snow.  
She pressed her nose to the window, looking down in dismay at the pristine blanket of whiteness lying heavily all around the quaint hotel, previously distinct lines of the driveway now totally invisible.   
Jensen came to stand beside her, staring out at the offending snow.   
“Fuck,” she said with conviction, panic driven instinct sending her diving for her phone. She had the airport app up before Jensen could even turn to see what she was doing.  
One by one, the flights were updating to the red of cancelled. She kept scrolling, heart sinking as flights later and later into the morning were removed one by one with methodical cruelty.  
“Oh no,” she moaned, tears of frustration pricking her eyes. She brushed them away impatiently and slumped gracelessly onto the sofa, defeated for once. The tensions of the past few weeks came crashing down on her, sapping the last of the fight from her body. She buried her face in her hands.  
“Hey,” Jensen sat on the table in front of her with a frown of concern. “You okay?”  
She rallied a little at that, a lifetime of disciplining her emotions coming to her aid. She gave him a quick, forced smile.  
“Sure. I’m gonna go get some rest, nothing more I can do here,” Judith sounded as crisp and efficient as always but the iron control was slipping. She’d been so ready for a few weeks of downtime and God knows how long this damned snow would delay that by.  
He leaned back to give her space as she stood and she paused for a moment, staring down into his earnest green eyes. He was watching her cautiously, as if waiting for her to do something.  
“I’m sorry Jensen,” she told him miserably, thinking maybe he was annoyed that they were going to be stuck here. She’d been keeping an eye on the weather all of yesterday and this morning, but hadn’t paid much attention to it this afternoon with the frantic pace of the last day of the convention, everyone trying to cram as much extra in as possible. And she’d been so tired as the evening wore on that it hadn’t even occurred to her.   
She’d let him down, and that was almost more than she could bear. Fresh tears welled in her eyes and she bit her lip.  
Jensen stood, looming over her although she was only a head shorter than him and uncomfortably close in the narrow strip of space between the table and sofa.  
Impulsively he pulled her into a tight hug to comfort her and that was the catalyst that released pent up frustration.  
She sobbed into his chest as it all came pouring out, exhaustion driving her almost to hysteria. His hands rubbed soothing circles on her back as he somehow maneuvered them so he was sitting on the sofa, with her cradled in his lap.  
He was murmuring reassuring nonsense as she cried it all out, until gradually it tapered off into sniffs and hiccups. He lifted one corner of his shirt to wipe gently at her tear-stained, puffy face.  
“Feel better?” He asked softly.  
Mutely she shook her head and tried to extract herself from his lap, embarrassed, but he tightened his grip on her waist, tucking her head under his chin.   
So she gave in, taking what comfort he was offering with uneasy gratitude. She rarely lost control like that but perversely, felt better for it. She trusted it would be kindly forgotten by Jensen.   
“Jude, you do a lot. Don't think I don't know it because I do. I'd be royally fucked without you,” he reassured her after a long silence.  
She sniffed inelegantly at that.   
“I missed this,” and she waved vaguely window wards, full of self recrimination.   
“And what could you have done about it?” He challenged, shifting position to fix her with a stern eye.   
“Gotten an earlier flight, booked a room closer to the airport, hell, dragged you to the airport to camp out for any last minute cancellations,” she fired back immediately, insulted. Please. As if she wouldn't have been prepared for any contingency.   
“Alright, smarty pants,” he conceded. “But c’mon, is it really that bad?”  
She put both hands on her shoulders to shove herself back, staring at him incredulously.   
“Jensen,” she began icily, furious but trying her damndest to sound calm. “We’ve been nonstop for three weeks now. If I’ve had more than 4 hours of sleep a night, I’ll be amazed, and I swear to god if I hear one more person talking about the damn shooting schedule,” she grit her teeth. “I will not be held responsible for my actions. I NEED this time off. The only thing that’s kept me going for the past few days is knowing I’ll be able to go home.”  
Suddenly Jensen smiled his slow, sardonic smile. He threw his head back and laughed, shoulder heaving.  
“Do you know how many times I’ve cursed your damn name these past few weeks, you ball-bustin’ bitch?” He managed to gasp out.  
Incensed, she smacked his chest hard and fought against him to spring to her feet and give him a piece of her mind but he captured both of her wrists in one hand, still laughing uncontrollably.  
“Jensen! You’re an ass!” she shouted, furious but feeling the helpless laughter bubbling up in her throat at his unrestrained glee. It was contagious, and soon she was giggling breathlessly along with him, unable to stop.  
Finally it eased off into the occasional chuckle and he released her wrists to wipe the tears from his eyes.  
She slid down to sit beside him, one leg still over his as she leaned into the soft cushions, holding her aching sides.  
“You’re a jerk.”  
“S’re you,” he shot back without missing a beat, but without malice.   
Raucous activity in the hall made them aware of external activity, shouts and laughter. Someone hammered on the door.  
“Jen! C’mon man, bar, now!” Jared called, beating out a brisk marching beat on the door.  
The riotous noise faded away as the cast and crew headed down the hall, and Judith wondered how on earth they’d gotten back, leaning over the back of the sofa to peer out of the window. A deep track had been worn in the snow as far back as she could see.  
“Sounds like they’re havin’ a good time, you coming?” Jensen asked, standing and giving her an appraising look as if checking to see if she was going to have another breakdown.  
“Yeah, sure. Just need a few to change,” and she grimaced, gesturing down to her expensive suit, now wrinkled and stained with whisky and crumbs. She retrieved her bag from the mess on the coffee table and tossed her useless phone into it.

 

The party was in full swing when she joined it. Somehow they’d managed to rig a makeshift karaoke on the little stage in one corner of the room, double speakers holding someone's laptop, hooked up to a protector with the lyrics on a hastily pinned up table cloth.  
The band had set up behind that, but they loved nothing better than an excuse to show off. It had probably been their idea.   
The bar was littered with half empty bottles and the tables had been pushed into the center of the room to make one big, communal seating area.   
Misha and Sebastian were currently singing Wind Beneath My Wings, badly but with great enthusiasm, Sebastian swinging a bottle of vodka around for emphasis with occasional pauses to take a swig.  
“Hey!” Jared pounced and suddenly she was swept up in a crushing bear hug as he swung her around before setting her back down on unsteady feet.  
“Hi,” she laughed, straightening the soft cashmere polo neck she’d thrown on with tight black jeans. She’d managed to fix her smudged makeup into smokey eyes with a touch of eyeliner, and had opted for deep red lipstick. Nobody looking at her would ever think she was capable of having an emotional breakdown over a little snow.  
“That weather is wild, huh? We had to hike up the last couple miles, it was crazy.”  
“Wondered how you guys had gotten back.”  
Jensen had appeared at her side while they talked and watched the pair clowning around on the stage, butchering the song. He handed her a tumbler of rich, dark bourbon with an ironic tilt of his own glass.  
“Found a bottle of the good stuff under the bar,” he said by way of explanation at Jared’s puzzled glance.   
The big man’s dark eyes slid from one to the other in sly speculation but he didn’t say anything, turning away to wade back into the fray.  
Jared’s reaction had her rapidly recalculating the past few hours with him, wondering if she’d inadvertently let the cautious distance between them slip enough to encourage the change in Jensen’s attitude towards her.  
She knew he loved his wife, she’d seen them together often enough to have no doubt about that - but with his lifestyle, the taxing demands on his time taking him away from home for long stretches, and his wife having her own bustling modelling career, the occasional indiscretion was only to be expected. She’d had to do enough last-minute damage control to protect his reputation to be under no allusions when it came to Jensen’s wandering eye.  
But she had, or so she thought, made it very clear to him that if he valued her skills as his personal assistant, he had better keep that eye firmly pointed away from her.   
It wasn’t like she’d never thought about him like that, how could she not? She was only human, after all, and they spent an inordinate amount of time together. Besides, he was wildly, panties wettingly attractive, charm and intelligence wrapped up in an unfairly sexy package. And she knew, without conceit, that she was no wallflower either.  
Yes, she decided finally with a little pang of apprehension, she had committed the cardinal sin of allowing Jensen to slip past her tough businesslike exterior.  
She sipped her drink broodingly as the party whirled on around her.  
“Judith!” Someone called her name and it snapped her out of her reverie.  
Jared, that sly devil, was up on the stage, waving a mic at her tauntingly. He knew, damn him, and he’d made it his personal mission to get them together.  
She scowled at him vengefully. He’d pay.  
“Get your skinny ass up here and grace us with a song.”  
The band were playing a few bars of melody idly, as they waited to see what was next. Chuck prided himself on his repertoire of cheesy classic rock, and he genuinely did seem to know any song she cared to mention.  
She tried to demur but the group took to the idea immediately - they’d heard her sing often enough to know she had a very good voice. She was bullied onto the stage, protests ignored.  
Jared smirked at her as he handed her the mic.   
“You’re dead,” she mouthed at him darkly, and knocked back her drink recklessly for liquid courage. It was a shame to waste the expensive booze, but she needed it to steady her sudden nerves.  
She snatched the mic from him and gave herself a little shake, throwing her shoulders back and lifting her chin to restore some of her usual equilibrium. She had completed 6 years at Juilliard, focused exclusively on her voice, and had years of training before that - she could handle a little karaoke.  
The first notes of Black Velvet blared out and she didn’t need to follow the lyrics - this was a song she loved.  
“Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell,” she threw herself into the song with sultry confidence, swaying her hips seductively in time to the beat.   
Unwillingly, she found her eyes locked on Jensen’s from across the crowded room, and she fluffed the next few lines nervously.  
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the music, letting the experienced musicians around her adjust to her faltering tone, and fell back into the first chorus with a little scramble of hastily adjusted tune.   
It felt natural to let the thumping drums guide her hips into a sway in time with the beat, and she stopped thinking, letting the song carry her away. Unbidden, her voice grew richer as she relaxed into the music.  
“The way he moved, it was a sin, so sweet and true,” the line seemed to fit Jensen so well and she found herself singing the song to him, letting her voice drop to a growl of need on the lower notes.  
Rarely, a good singer's performance can be elevated to greater than the sum of its parts, creating a magical moment where the good became excellent, and she could feel the mood of the room change as she sang, giving it her all, hitting the higher notes of the second chorus with effortless perfection.  
Awed faces were turned to stare at her now, but all of her attention was on Jensen. He was at the back of the crowd, standing at a pseudo parade rest, feet planted apart and strong arms folded across his chest. His eyes burned into hers as he devoured her.  
At her last, breathy if you please he licked his lips and she felt her body tighten deliciously with arousal.  
There was one long, drawn out moment of stunned silence that every performer dreamed of experiencing, before the room erupted into applause and cheers. The shouting mass swarmed around her with awed compliments and congratulations, breaking the tenuous contact.  
She was hugged and whirled around the group, laughing and preening at the praise showered on her from all sides.  
Finally she broke free, stumbling on unsteady feet and panting with exertion. Someone refilled her glass and she took a restorative sip, letting the burn of the whiskey clear her head as she sank into a chair.  
Jared had seized the mic from her nerveless fingers and was leading them in a rowdy, acapella version of Carry on Wayward Son, and suddenly Jensen was there, sweeping her up in his strong arms and whirling her into the fray, head thrown back as he belted out the words.   
“Hi,” he breathed in her ear and she gave a little sigh at the potency of his closeness, lips parted and eyes feverish in the adrenaline of her performance.

 

Wordlessly she turned and headed for the door, trusting that he was right behind her, not caring that someone might see. If they were going to do this, it had to be right now and appearances be damned.  
They were silent in the elevator ride, not even looking at each other as the frisson of tension between them rose to palpable levels. He led the way back to his hotel room, turning to close the door and seizing her in his arms in one fluid motion.   
His lips were hard and demanding as he kissed her, tongue darting out to force its way into her mouth. She surrendered to its demand, giving herself over to him as he took what he wanted.  
His hard body pressed hers into the door, one knee worming between her legs and pressing insistently against her sex as he ravaged her mouth. She moaned into his lips and ground down on him, feeling her juices soak through her jeans onto his.  
He released her abruptly and she clutched at the wall, panting with need. He dropped to his knees and unbuttoned her jeans torturously slowly, thumbnails grazing her skin as he slipped them down over her creamy thighs to her knees, trapping her.  
She stopped breathing as his fingertips brushed over her pussy through her soaked panties and she thrust her hips forward pleadingly.  
His hot breath on her sex made her tense and she almost came as he tongued her clit through the silky material. He seized her hip to steady her as she convulsed and fisted her hands in his hair, but kept up the insistent pressure on her clit until she was half-crazed with need, whimpering and pleading wordlessly for release but unable to spread her legs.  
Finally she couldn’t stand anymore and dove on him, shoving him down with frenzied command, clumsy hands tearing at the zip to free his straining cock, kicking her own legs free.  
He ripped the flimsy panties off and she sank onto him with a loud moan, the burn of fullness pushing her to the edge once more. His amber eyes, glazed with lust, burned into hers as his hands came up to graze the skin of her hips, waiting for her to do something.  
Slowly, Judith circled her hips and felt a spike of possessive power as his eyes fluttered closed and he groaned at the sensation. She lifted herself up and sank back down, sighing at the gentle, teasing friction, repeating the motion until the helpless bucking of his hips told her he couldn’t stand much more and the knowledge pushed her on.  
She set a frenzied pace, slamming down onto him, ignoring his groans in her own desperate need for relief built. She clenched around him like a vice and froze as her orgasm peaked and surged with almost painful intensity.  
His cock twitched as he grunted and exploded with her, hot cum filling her and spilling out to stain his jeans.  
Judith collapsed on his heaving chest as her vision cleared, a delicious drowsiness settling over her.   
“That’s one way to unwind,” she mumbled, unable to help herself, feeling the tensions of the past few weeks fading away in the afterglow.  
Jensen chuckled and she felt the rumble deep in his chest. His hands came up to stroke soothingly up and down her back.  
“Works for me.” She could almost feel the smirk on his face and sat up to confirm that yes, he was indeed smirking at her in a very cat-that-got-the-cream kind of way.  
Ruthlessly, she clenched strong inner muscles and smirked back at his helpless groan as oversensitive flesh was stimulated once again. His erection rose gallantly to the occasion, swelling to fill her entirely.  
Jensen’s eyes flashed in challenge as he sat up until they were nose to nose, the motion angling his cock against her g-spot and making her gasp, fresh arousal soaking his already ruined jeans.  
“My turn,” he growled low in his throat, one hand sliding down teasingly to grip the edge of her sweater and pull it over her head with agonising slowness.  
Strong arms wrapped around her back as he nuzzled her nipples through her lacy bra, sharp pangs of desire making her throw her head back and thrust her breasts into him.  
Nimble fingers unhooked her bra and discarded it, strong hands sliding down to cup her ass and pull her hips securely into him, controlling their unconscious movement, slowing her so he could take his time.  
She surrendered to him, letting him support her body as he teased her mercilessly, content to ride out the almost unbearable pleasure so soon after orgasm.   
Expert lips and tongue continued to work her over, suckling her nipples with enough pressure to border on painful, her hips trying to buck into his cock with every movement of his tongue.  
Jensen manhandled her legs until they were wrapped securely around his waist, and muscles straining, stood up with her still impaled on his cock, arms around his neck as she clung to him in sudden panic at his unexpected maneuver.   
He stepped out of his jeans and boxers as he walked them into his bedroom, her slight weight not slowing him in the least.  
She squeaked a protest when he tumbled them both onto the bed and glared at him.  
“Shit head,” she muttered vengefully, eyes narrowed.  
Jensen laughed at the expression on her face - it was the look she usually reserved for cowing uppity TV executives, cool and displeased, and in her current predicament, it was wildly inappropriate.   
He leaned over her and drove his cock into her hard, to remind her of her place, and was pleased when she gasped and closed her eyes in pleasure, clutching at his arms.  
“I love it when you talk dirty,” he drawled into her ear, and when she opened her mouth for a smartass come back, he started pounding into her, setting a gruelling pace.  
She moaned an unsteady litany as his cock drove the breath from her lungs, and arched into him in unconscious surrender when he pinned her wrists above her head on the bed, to hold her in place as he fucked her hard.  
Seeing his usually cool and collected assistant like this, dishevelled and lost in helpless pleasure, the wild tossing of her head as she fought to get a handle on the waves of desire, was enough to drive him crazy.   
He’d fantasised about this for a long time, as he watched her strut around in the ridiculously high designer heels she insisted on wearing everywhere they went, whether it was meetings or on set, never showing the slightest discomfort even after 16 hours.  
And every time they leaned over his scripts together, the subtle scent of her perfume and skin drove him nuts until all he could think about was burying his face in her neck as he bent her over the table, kicking her taut high-heeled legs apart as he drove into her.   
Hearing her usually calm, assertive tone change now to helpless cries of pleasure was sending him over the edge but he grit his teeth, determined to outlast her.  
Finally the rhythm faltered as her orgasm built and she tensed, eyes flying open as her legs locked around his waist, pulling him impossibly deep inside of her.  
“Come on, baby,” he growled tensely, holding back his own explosion with heroic effort. He ground down onto her clit hard, and finally, she let go with a scream, bucking wildly, and he collapsed onto her as his own orgasm hit hard, making him see stars.  
Jensen recovered first, and eased out of her gently as he rolled to the side so he wouldn’t crush her. He pulled off his shirt and used to to clean them both before he manhandled her up the bed and under the covers, ignoring her garbled, sleepy protests as he pulled her against his chest, head tucked under his chin.  
Judith crooned sweetly and burrowed into him, soft and pliable, usual demeanor of badass bitch well and truly forgotten.  
“Just-fucked suits you,” Jensen teased, unable to help himself.   
“Shove it, Ackles,” she retorted without conviction, blissed out and refusing to acknowledge the niggling doubt at the back of her mind. Ramifications could be dealt with tomorrow.  
“I’ll never be able to listen to that song again without thinking about this.”  
“Me either,” she giggled, pulling back to study his face. She raised her hand and ran one soft finger down his jawline reverently.  
“Wonder what other songs we can ruin forever,” Jensen mused, several coming to mind.  
“Jensen,” she hesitated, biting her lip. “That is not a good idea.”  
She was slipping back into her usual attitude, the slight twist of her lips and the foreboding frown marring her brow telling him she was over thinking and talking herself out of it.  
“Ju,” he mimicked her disapproving tone and winced when she tweaked his long stubble. “We’re consenting adults, who says we can’t?”  
“Your wife might,” she fired back immediately, raising her eyebrows.  
That made him pause with a twinge of guilt, before he gave her his slow, confident smile.  
“My wife isn’t here.”  
“Jensen Ross Ackles,” he winced at his full name as she launched into a tirade. “If you think for one second that this in any way means that I am going to be one of your silly little conquests on the road, you are sorely mistaken.” She drew back indignantly, on a roll now. “I’m choosing to think of this as a one-off, drunken mistake, and I strongly suggest you do the same.”  
She was intimidating when she was angry, which was one of the key features that had made him hire her originally - she’d fight like a lioness when provoked, for the right cause, and wouldn’t back down. He wanted that on his side.  
But now, on the receiving end, he had a new appreciation for the stereotype of a woman with red hair and green eyes - she was downright scary.  
So he used the only defence he had, and when she opened her mouth to lay into him again, he silenced her with a kiss, soothing her anger with his deft lips.  
She put up a token resistance and he received a nasty jab to his solar plexus before she relented, melting into him.   
“You fight dirty,” she complained breathlessly when he finally released her, sinking down into his arms, a dreamy look on her face.  
“I never said I played fair. Don’t ruin the moment Ju,” he pleaded softly, laying his head down next to hers so their foreheads were touching.  
She huffed an unhappy sigh but nodded, agreeing to an amnesty for now but her obstinate expression told him she was not ready to give up without a fight.  
“Will you stay the night?” Jensen asked, hesitantly and her eyes widened in surprise before softening.   
“Sure, but I’m showering first. It’s been a loooong day,” she told him with feigned casualness - he never spent the night with anyone.   
She slithered off the bed and gave him a wicked grin as she strutted out of the room, buck naked.  
Jensen stared at her swaying ass, transfixed, before he groaned, rolling onto his back to cover his face with his hands. He was in way too deep.


End file.
